


Leave This Blue Neighbourhood

by poetrydivided



Series: Leave This Blue Neighbourhood [1]
Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F, Super Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11963484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetrydivided/pseuds/poetrydivided
Summary: The one based off of Troye Sivan's ultra-depressing music video series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hii this was originally posted under my Tumblr (ifyouhadazuneihateyou/homemadedynmite) on 5hFanfiction

It's been two weeks since they last spoke, since they even met eyes. Lauren catches her in the hall more than a once day, but Camila's never alone and never looks up. This isn't anything new save for the amount of time without contact.

Camila's always been of a different clique, surrounded by plastic cheerleaders and clean-shaven jocks. She's also friends with girls like Ally Brooke, not only captain of the cheer squad but also the math team. And Normani Kordei, captain of the dance team and the Science National Honor Society. Camila isn't just well-rounded in academics, it seems. Her friends are more than varied.

Lauren isn't exactly the complete opposite. She has smart, outgoing friends. None of them are going to the super bowl anytime soon, mind you, but still sharp. People like Dinah Jane, second on the dance team but way too quiet until choir rolls around. And Zendaya Coleman, who's way too skilled to just be on the high schools dance team.

Both of them are smart, pretty, honest.

But they aren't Camila's friends. They aren't the same, on two totally different spectrums.

Lauren slams her tray down as she slides into their lunch table.

"Hello to you too, grumpy." Dinah doesn't look up from her phone. "What, did Mrs. Velasquez give you another B?"

Lauren locks her arms around her waist, unamused. She doesn't respond.

Zendaya pouts from the seat across from her. "Bad day?"

"Bad life."

She doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out anyway.

Zendaya pouts again, thinking Lauren has a real problem. She doesn't, of course. Lauren's only problem is a person who refuses to give up her social status for a mere second. It's not a real issue. People are dying.

Zendaya realizes this as she catches Camila and her friends steal the table across from them.

She sighs. "Her again? Really?"

"It's not like that-"

"Girl," Her brow knits with concern. "How long has this been going on? Since last year? This always happens. You fuck her for like, what, a good month or two?"

Lauren chokes on a tater-tot.

"And then she totally cuts off all contact until her hormones flare up again. You gotta stop doing that to yourself, Lo."

Dinah raises a hand, eyes still locked on her phone. "Amen."

"It's not like that," Lauren repeats, taking a sip of her water. She shrugs. "We haven't been...you know, doing it. We've just been making out and stuff." Just kissing.

"Uh-huh," Zendaya narrows her eyes, laughing. "Lauren Jauregui, sluttiest senior to ever slut, just making out. Right." Even Dinah lets out a giggle.

"Fuck you, Z." Lauren should be laughing along with them, reveling in the fact that she's slept with more people than she can remember this year, both girls and boys. It's not a bad thing, to be what people swear is a slut, as if frequent intercourse is an ugly act, so it deserves an ugly word. Lauren doesn't care about that.

She cares that she is the only one who has faith in her and Camila's relationship. It went from Zendaya and Dinah cheering her on and Lauren having to hush them, to this. She wants to prove them wrong.

"Seriously, though," Zendaya hikes her brow and sticks a finger in Camila's direction. "You've gotta move on from that. She clearly doesn't care about you the way you care about her. When things stop being about sex, that's when you know you're in too deep."

"No, you're wrong." Lauren shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but you're wrong. She isn't like that. She's just-"

"She's just what? Too afraid that her connection with you will make her popularity pyramid come crumbling down? She doesn't even talk to you, Lauren! You can't seriously believe she cares about you."

Lauren shifts in her seat.

"You're being ridiculous. You don't know what goes on between Camila and I. She just has-...Her life is just-...." She sighs. "It's complicated."

"Right." Zendaya elbows Dinah, eliciting a frightened 'Ow! What the-?' She keeps her eyes on Lauren. "Dinah," She says. "Back me up here."

Dinah takes what feels like the longest sigh of her life as she sets her phone down. She folds her hands under her chin dramatically, measuring her words carefully before speaking.

She takes another breath, and then: "I think she's right." She says it too quickly, like if she says it slow enough to understand Lauren might slap her.

It only deflates Lauren further. She feels something bubble at the edge of her throat, and she can't tell whether it's anger or defeat or anger because of her defeat. She makes a fist with one hand.

"I'm sorry, Lo," Dinah continues. "It's just...I see you pour so much of yourself into this fantasy you have of the two of you and it just...breaks my heart. She's just using you to get off."

It's the last sentence that really pushes her.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know her like I do, and frankly, you probably never will. We've known each other since pre-school, Dinah. How long have you known her, three years? You don't know shit about her. Neither of you do. She's the sweetest, most down-to-earth girl I've ever met. She isn't using me, she's just-" Lauren stops herself. Hiding, she wants to say. She's just hiding.

"I'm only basing my opinion off of what you've told me." Dinah sighs to herself and shakes her head, picking up her phone. "This is the exact reason I don't get involved with these types of conversations."

It's the meanest thing she could say.

And she's wrong, dammit. She's so fucking wrong. Lauren has seen Camila in her best times and her worst times, and neither marks her a bad person. She is perfect even when she's crying. She is an angel even when she's screaming at the top of her lungs for Lauren to leave, to go right now before she kicks her out. Even in her worst, heaviest breakdowns, Lauren would still choose her.

So Lauren does. She chooses, right here and now.

She picks up her tray and drops it by the trash, then makes her way over to Camila. Camila, and her snotty friends.

But she's worth it, Lauren swears. She's worth it.

Each and every ounce of conversation dies by the time Lauren reaches Camila's side.

Camila doesn't realize what's going at first. She laughs it off and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "What? Do I have a booger or something?" She says.

Then everyone-Normani, Ally, the rest of the cheer squad that all look the same-glance up, and Camila slowly turns around, bracing herself.

She rolls her eyes as soon as they meet Lauren's. She shoots up from the table and grabs Lauren by the wrist, yanking her away from the table far enough so no one can hear them.

"What the hell are you doing?" She says it in a dull, impatient voice. To Lauren, it sounds like glass breaking. The worst sound in the world. "You know you can't just walk up to me like that. We had an agreement."

A shard of glass digs into Lauren.

"Tell me I'm not a fool." She shakes her head, desperately searching the younger girl's face for an answer. "Tell me I'm not stupid for not coming back to you. Tell me we have something."

Camila glances down, lowering her voice. "This isn't the time or place-"

"Camila," Her voice shakes. This isn't happening, she tries to tell herself. Camila's just hiding, again. She's too scared to speak here in public, at school. That's all.

"Please," She says. "At least text me back. Answer my calls. Something, anything. Just tell me I'm not-"

"I have to go." Camila won't even look her in the eyes. "I can't talk to you like this."

She makes a turn to leave, but Lauren latches onto her arm.

She can't let her go, not like this. She isn't a fool. She knows she isn't a fool. She can't control herself.

"You're annoying, Cabello." Her voice is breaking now, trying so hard to reach Camila. Maybe if her voice shatters hard enough, she'll shatter through Camila's facade.

Say it, Lauren prays. Fucking say it.

But Camila only grows more uncomfortable, pulling her arm away. Her cheeks flush pink, the shade one would only ever receive in a snowstorm.

She again looks so cold, even though Lauren can hear her heart beating fast, faster than she's sensed before.

"You're so annoying, Cabello!" She says it louder this time, not caring how big of a fool she looks. Now, she really is a fool.

She can see Normani Kordei in her cheer uniform, rising from her cheery table, in all her cheery perfection. Time is running out.

"Please," She can barely see Camila now, tears(or is it glass?) burning her eyes. "I'm an ass. Tell me I'm kind of an ass, Jauregui. You can't- You can't just do this to me-" Again. She realizes. She's done this before. She's been doing this all along.

Camila finally meets Lauren's grey eyes, and hers are so small compared to her own. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. She shakes her head, brow knit in concern. Lauren questions if it's fake.

She looks like she's going to apologize, like she's going to whisper 'I'll text you later' or something worthy of forgiveness.

But Camila seizes the one brief moment where Lauren's grip loosens, and she turns away.

She walks slowly and carefully back to her table, almost like she's maneuvering around broken glass.


	2. Part 2: FOOLS

She is used to listening to crackling records. She is used to smoking. She is used to skipping school.

But never all three at once.

It wasn't supposed to hit her this hard. Camila was supposed to be a hook, not an anchor. An escape, not total salvation. Camila has poisoned everything, ruined everything. Lauren sees her in all her favorite movies(even the ones she's never seen before), sees her in the shadows of her favorite songs. She takes the shape of each and every word Lauren reads.

She feels selfish.

Lauren sits up in her bed and pulls her knees to her chest. The record playing sounds nothing like it used to, not how it sounded when she and Camila-

Dammit. She shakes her head and goes to open the window, but as soon as her hand touches the cold latch she shivers.

The issue with falling in love is that you fall. You don't gradually sink into love, nor do you stand or walk in love. But fall, hard. Lauren followed all the warnings. She knew falling in love could be painful, that it could be the end of the world if not executed correctly. But when people say they fall in love hard, she didn't think they meant this hard. This is the type of hard only a stone could match. It's the kind of out-of-breath unique only to sprinting.

And it fucking sucks.

Her phone has been vibrating nonstop, but she's stopped answering. It's always Dinah or Zendaya, typing in angry block letters. (Where TF R U?? R U ALIVE???) She doesn't see the point in replying. She has no more words worth saying.

The record is crackling more, sounding like the opening credits to an old film. She never understood how music in it's purest form could sound so broken. Lauren reaches over to the windowsill again for her pack of cigarettes and her lighter, this time being careful not to touch the latch.

Stupid Camila. She forces herself to think this, like maybe if she pretends to hate the girl long enough, she really will. She plays with the lighter. What a fool. What a fucking fool I was-

And then she starts crying.

She doesn't realize it until the lighter's flame sizzles. Crying, over a girl who has never shed one tear for her. Camila never loved Lauren. She just loved the high that came with physical touch, the electricity. She probably doesn't even remember Lauren's middle name.

She lights the cigarette and holds it away from her face for a moment, glancing at the glassed stars filling her window. She wonders how one can be so wrong about someone, even after they've spent their whole lives together. What compels a person to care for another knowing they've forgotten about them? What is it about hurt that keeps us coming back?

Hope is so seductive.

Lauren isn't really listening to the record anymore. She just feels like she has to keep it on because it keeps her thoughts mild. Without distraction, she might just go mad. She cries harder then, realizing she has given so much of herself away to someone who doesn't even realize it, who pushes the offer away.

Then there's a knocking.

At first she thinks it may be the vinyl finally splitting. It wouldn't surprise her. Everything else in her life has fallen apart.

But then the knocking shakes Lauren's door, and a voice follows: "Open this door before I open it for you, asshole."

The last word gives her hope, like maybe it's-

Fuck. Lauren scrambles from her bed and tackles the record player, trying to shut it off.

But it just doesn't listen.

"What the-" She attacks all it's buttons, turns this knob and that. But the music just blares louder, screaming at her. "fuck!"

The knocking intensifies. "If I find you dead in there I swear-"

Lauren manages to turn the volume off just as Dinah picks the lock to her bedroom door. Lauren almost drops her cigarette-

Because of course she still has her fucking cigarette. Dinah doesn't even know she smokes-

Occasionally smokes. No one does, no one except-

Dammit. She hides it behind her back, backing up against the record player. She stares at Dinah with wide eyes, mouth agape.

"Did you just pick my bedroom door?"

"I thought you were dead." Dinah sounds just as accusing, voice sharp as glass. She raises a brow. "How's that stomach flu?"

Lauren coughs, the one drag from her cigarette all too much for her.

"I think it's actually strep." She says. She doesn't know why she's acting like this, like a child crafting the conversation this way and that so it doesn't meet the one subject they don't want approached. She managed to convince her parents it was a stomach bug, when really it's just a mental bug. Stomach flu, depression, stress. They all cause pain, don't they?

Dinah takes a step back. She looks Lauren up and down. Here stands Lauren Jauregui, the dark star, the girl who hides her brightness behinds layers of dark clothes. The girl who is too sarcastic for her own good but has a motherly shoulder that her friends know they can always cry on. The girl who has a voice so warm you can feel yourself melt listening to it.

Except this is not that Lauren Jauregui. Her cheeks are too hollow and her skin is too pale, like she hasn't eaten in days. The bags under her eyes tell Dinah she hasn't slept too much, either. This is Lauren, broken, listening to sad songs about shaken hearts. A complete, empty shadow of the girl she used to be. A ghost.

A ghost with smoke billowing from behind.

Dinah raises her brow higher. "Your ass is on fire." She has to raise her voice over the record.

Lauren again shifts the subject. "It's not an exact lie-"

"No, literally," Dinah charges and grabs Lauren's hand from behind her back. "Your ass is literally on fi-" She stops, realizing the item in Lauren's hand.

She doesn't let go, instead tightening her hold. It takes a while to process it, the act so unbelievable Dinah doesn't even want to contemplate it. Both of the girls are silent as Dinah's eyes slide from Lauren's hand to her now-pale eyes.

Lauren will never forget the hurt on Dinah's face just before she erupts.

"A cigarette?" She seethes, tearing the vile thing from Lauren's hand and throwing it on the ground. "A cigarette! You're un-fucking-believable. Have you forgotten that you have asthma, dumb-ass?" She even shoves Lauren into the record machine, causing it's needle to slide across the vinyl. It makes an ugly zipping sound, like the vinyl is being torn apart.

Lauren can actually feel it being torn apart, like it isn't the vinyl but herself being ripped to pieces.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Dinah asks, but Lauren's already panicking, her mind far from here.

The question still hits her though, and her mind reaches an answer she will never voice aloud.

No, but-

Shit. Shit. Shit! Lauren whirls around, hands scrambling for the delicate record. She nearly breaks the machine's needle, slamming it to the right and off the vinyl.

Shit.

There's a defined, somber line zigzagging across the record. It doesn't even stop on one end, just continues through the entire middle. She's surprised it isn't split in two.

She feels both sick and like she's about to cry. She doesn't know which is going to come first.

She lifts the vinyl from the machine and holds it in her small hands, viewing the damage from another angle. It doesn't look any better, almost worse. She sits back on her bed and hugs the vinyl to her chest.

Lauren is aware of how ridiculous she looks, like a child. It's just a vinyl, isn't it? It's material, an object. It can be replaced.

But not this one. This one holds history, holds memories.

You can't replace the past.

Dinah doesn't understand it at first. Why would she?

"Lauren-" She says, ready to fight. But then she see's something she hasn't seen since-

Since-

And it all clicks.

She sighs, taking a seat next to Lauren, to a crying Lauren. She puts her hand on her knee.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself." She says.

Lauren only cries harder.

"Look at what you've let her do to you, Lo," Dinah pries the vinyl away from Lauren. She looks it over, identifies the scratch-

Except there is something much more devastating than the huge scratch.

C.C. The initials- Her initials, are etched around the vinyl's hole, ripping into the albums art, purple clouds and velvet sky warping around the letters.

She is almost too scared to flip it over, fearing Lauren's-

And it's there. Etched in almost the same hand, digging into the same clouds. L.J.

This is the record Lauren always talks about.

She was really sweet, though. She even gave me the record we...you know...

Oh my god, that's so weird.

Maybe it's like a helping hand, you know, for when she's horny-

Oh, god, I'm leaving now.

Lauren refused to even mention the name of the record. Now, she doesn't have to.

Dinah sighs deeply, measuring each word she's about to speak.

"Lauren," She almost whines it. "Why do you still have this?"

Lauren can barely meet her eyes. She shrugs.

"Lauren," Dinah lifts Lauren's chin with her hand so they meet eyes. The discoloration in Lauren's hits Dinah like a baseball bat to the chest. She sighs again. "You need to get rid of it. You can't keep pretending she's going to come around. You can't keep holding onto her. You need to let go."

Let go. Lauren doesn't know if she wants to laugh or scream or both. What people don't understand is that letting go is hard. If she could let go, she would. She wouldn't purposely do this to herself. Letting go of someone after spending so much of your life with them is like repainting the dark walls of your room brighter, like painting over blood red with pewter blue. You keep brushing on layer after layer but the red still seeps through. It's always going to be there, no matter how many times you paint over it.

She's still there, no matter how many times Lauren tries to pretend she isn't. She is always going to be there.

What's the use in trying to forget?

Dinah sees the doubt in her face. She breathes harshly through her nose and decides.

Lauren is going to hate her for a while, but it's the only way.

Dinah throws the vinyl onto the floor and stomps on it with her heels, making sure it splits into three or four pieces.

Lauren can't breathe. It's like watching a part of yourself die, like drowning, like every conceivable metaphor able to be used to describe death and pain and torture.

Dinah keeps stomping on it, digging her heel into it. It's death over and over and over-

"Stop!" Lauren screams, shoving Dinah off the disc. "What the fuck are you doing! Stop-!" But Dinah doesn't budge, just smashes the vinyl into more bits and pieces until it's something unrecognizable.

Lauren feels sick. Oh god, she feels sick. She feels like the walls are closing in on her, like Dinah is a demon sent to drag her back to hell with her, like this life isn't supposed to belong to her.

Suddenly she can't see. She cannot tell if it's because she's crying so hard or if it's something else.

Oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod-

"Lauren-" Dinah begins, but Lauren seizes her arm, eyes wide with fear. She can't breathe. She can't fucking breathe.

She can't talk, either.

"Shit," Dinah eases Lauren back onto the bed, her hands now gripping Lauren's. "It's okay, you're fine, you're just-"

But then Lauren makes this terrible, heartbreaking cry like she's combusting. She wheezes.

"Oh shit, oh shit oh shit-" Dinah scrambles and starts tearing the room apart, digging through this drawer and that for Lauren's inhaler. She keeps muttering oh shit under her breath.

Lauren's still wheezing, harder now, like somethings caught in her lungs and she's doing everything she can to squeeze it out. She thinks she may pass out.

Fuck.

But then Dinah finally finds the inhaler, behind Lauren's TV, almost like Lauren meant to hide it, do away with it. Lauren always did resent her useless lungs, hating that the only sport she could play was softball because it's the least tiring.

Dinah shoves the inhaler into Lauren's mouth, one hand on the actual object and the other behind Lauren's head, making sure she uses it.

Lauren latches onto the inhaler for (literally) dear life. She closes her eyes as air is pumped back into her lungs. It feels like rebirth.

Then she crumbles all over again, realizing what had just happened.

A fucking panic attack, over Cami-

Dammit. She curls into Dinah, covering her mouth with her hand. Dinah shouldn't let her cry, because she knows it isn't over the attack but over Camila. But she feels so bad, too, for triggering it.

Lauren cries without ever missing her breath.

—

After one week, Lauren is forced to go back to school on the account that her fever is gone. She couldn't keep the heater going forever, not with her family's income.

She doesn't want to be here. Don't get her wrong, she loves school. She appreciates that her country allows her to receive free education without restriction. She has a natural thirst for learning. But it's the people that ruin it for her.

Especially the people in her first period class, because it's AP English.

The class where she reunited with Cam-

She can't even finish her thought before She walks through the door.

Camila. It's become a name so cold it gives Lauren chills just thinking it. She's thankful she's partners with Zendaya today.

But Camila walks up to their table, eyes barely able to meet Lauren's. She looks so small here, like a-

Lauren refuses to let herself think it.

"Can I talk to you?" Camila asks, voice a thin line.

Lauren opens her mouth to speak, feigning the strength required to do so, but Zendaya speaks for her.

"No, I'm afraid you can't." She folds her hands under her chin and bats her eyes.

Camila raises a brow, keeping her eyes on Lauren.

"Please-"

"The answer is no, Camila." Zendaya makes a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Move along now."

"Look, I know what I did was-"

"What part of no don't you understand, girl?"

"Was I talking to you?" Camila finally says, cocking her head at the darker girl. "I'm trying to apologize-"

"She doesn't want your apologies, Camila. As a matter of fact, she doesn't want you. At all. Ever. Again. She's moved on, so leave and let her go, too."

Lauren tries to swallow back the lump in her throat, but it only feels like chucking up shards of glass. She keeps her eyes down at her desk.

"You don't understand what I was-"

"Camila," Zendaya straightens in her seat. "I'm going to tell you one last time. Whatever was between you and Lauren, it's over. Leave."

Camila shakes her head, mouth agape. "Just let me say one thing-"

But Lauren can't take this anymore. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her books, some of which aren't required reading.

She remembers one is a story Camila gave her. All The Bright Places.

She picks it up with a shaky hand and slides it over toward Camila. She sighs.

"Please just leave." She says. Her voice is shakier than her hand.

It's a good thing that Lauren isn't looking up, because if she were, she wouldn't be able to take the look on Camila's face. It's not just hurt, but frustration, like she's so desperate to say something to ears that will not listen. It would break Lauren all over again.

"Please, Lauren, I had to-"

"Had to what? Had to blow me off and humiliate me like that so your pretty posh friends wouldn't find out?" Lauren doesn't know where it comes from, she just knows she has to say it or she really will explode. This time she meets Camila's eyes dead-on, not caring how weary they look.

"You treated me like I was a...like a child, Camz-" Her breath catches, and she has to force herself to clear her throat. "Camila," She corrects herself. "I can't keep letting you hurt me like that."

"You're not letting me explain-"

"If you had something so important to say, maybe you should've texted me or called me."

Camila closes her eyes and accepts her defeat. But not before uttering one last thing.

"My mom took my phone away."

She walks to her own table at the other end of the room, almost jogging. Lauren doesn't think much of it at first. In fact, she almost feels proud of herself for ending it herself, for saying goodbye.

But then she thinks about it more, contemplating the significance behind everything.

My mom took my phone away. But why would-?

Oh, shit.

Lauren starts shaking, feeling her blood go cold.

Oh, fucking shit.

Her mom took her phone away, for a reason. And what reason could she have? What's the only thing that could upset Camila's mom?

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit-

Lauren doesn't think. She just runs out of the classroom past her teacher, not even grabbing her bag. She just runs, like the school is collapsing behind her, like the ground crumbles beneath her with each step.

This is her fault. Camila's mom must have found out somehow, must have heard Lauren skid down their roof that night before-

And that's why Camila stopped talking to her. Her phone was taken away. She couldn't message her or contact her in any way.

And the confrontation. The confrontation only made it worse. Camila's mom must have done something bad to scare Camila to the point of no contact, secluded or not. She must have-

Fuck. She can't breathe. She really, really can't breathe. It's worse than when Dinah broke the vinyl. It's worse than anything she's ever felt before.

Lauren realizes, with a shock to the chest, that she doesn't have her inhaler. She's left it in her bag, in the classroom that seems miles away.

I'm going to die, She thinks. I can't breathe and I'm going to pass out and I'm going to die.

She slams into a locker and slides down it, like maybe if she shocks herself with enough physical pain it'll counteract the emotional kind.

She can't breathe. It's the only thing she can focus on as she digs her hands into her hair. Cant. Breathe.

It's her own fault, too.

"Lauren?" She hears a voice call, like it's searching for her. She hears footsteps tapping across the school's tiled floors.

Here come the hallucinations, she thinks. It's what happens when you're deprived of oxygen, right? When you're hyperventilating?

Fuck.

"Lauren, look at me."

She keeps her head down.

"Baby, please, just lift your chin up."

Lauren's heart stops. No one calls her baby, no one except-

She wants to laugh, but she doesn't have nearly enough breath to. Of course she hallucinates Camila, of all the things possible. Dammit.

Then there's a hand behind her head, another clamping her jaw, forcing something into her mouth-

For a moment, it feels like death all over again, like the devil is literally trying to harm her this time.

But then she can breathe again. Her hands find their way around the inhaler, puffing it a few more times. She closes her eyes, and she is thankful.

Until she realizes the girl crouching above her isn't a hallucination.

Lauren feels her heart speed up again, her fingers growing numb around the inhaler. She hears it slip out of her grasp and onto the floor. She tries to back up against the lockers, but her back is as close to them as it can be. She again feels like she is trapped, this time with the worst person to be trapped with.

"Lauren, stop," Camila sounds both impatient and worried, like a mother trying to calm down their crying child. She reaches with both hands for Lauren's arms. "Please, baby."

Lauren wants to scream at her to not call her that, that she hasn't called her that in a year, not even a few weeks ago when they-

She just wants this all to stop. She wants to not be here. She wants to not exist in this moment.

It's not even the fact she can't breathe, but that now she can't even think.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"Lauren," Camila coos again. "Please-"

Then Lauren's hyperventilating louder. All she wants is for Camila to go away, leave her be.

Camila does the complete opposite of that.

She swears she doesn't mean to, she just gives in to her heart. It's an impulse that sweeps over her without a second thought.

Lauren doesn't realize Camila's lips are on her own until her heart beat slows.

But her pulse doesn't return to normal. It doesn't steady. This is a misconception all the novels and the movies and the songs get wrong. Love does not transcend all boundaries. It does not cure all heartache. It cannot reverse mental anguish. All it does is romanticize the illness, the anxiety, the panic attack. It writes it off as something insignificant.

So no, Lauren does not recover completely from her panic attack. She just holds her breath long enough to apprehend the situation at hand. She even pushes Camila away.

Camila looks back with fear in her eyes.

"I shouldn't have done that." She says. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry-"

Lauren doesn't understand why she's apologizing, but she holds a hand up for her to stop anyways. She can't speak, not yet.

But then Camila starts backing away, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, we-" She stutters, surprised at herself. "We can't- I...We can't see each other anymore. We can't talk, not even in school. I'm sorry, jesus, I'm sorry-"

It feels like being dunked underwater. Lauren still can't speak.

"I was just...I was just trying to tell you what...h-happened I didn't-" Even Camila loses her breath. "I wanted to make sure you know it's not me it's my-"

Lauren asks it before Camila has to mention it.

"Did your mom hurt you?" It pains her to ask.

Camila glances down.

"She did, didn't she?"

"I have to go-"

Lauren latches onto Camila's wrist. "We can stop this. You don't have to go through that, Camz. We can-" She doesn't even know what she's saying anymore, like the lack of oxygen has shrunk her brain. "We can show her. You can live with me. We can go-"

Camila tears away. "Stop! You're being delusional, Lauren." She shakes her head again, tears blurring her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Lauren's voice sharpens. "How are you gonna just...apologize to me and...and kiss me and then..." She runs a hand through her hair, realizing she really is starting to lose it.

"You can't leave me again."

Camila begins to apologize further, but then they both hear footsteps padding down the hall. Sneakers, Lauren realizes.

"Is everything okay?"

Of course it's Shawn. Baseball star, Shawn Mendes. The boy who has always had eyes for-

Lauren blinks twice. Surely her eyes are failing her. It's the lack of oxygen, the migraine from the panic attack. It's another hallucination.

But it's still there when Lauren clears her vision.

Shawn and Camila, holding hands, interlocking fingers.

It feels like an axe digging into her chest over and over again.

"We're fine," Camila says, her hand still firm in Shawn's. Lauren feels herself disintegrating. "We're just..." She looks back at Lauren, her eyes begging for forgiveness. "Saying goodbye, I guess."

Lauren is paralyzed. She does not say a word when Shawn tells them the teacher wants them back to class immediately, does not protest when Camila fakes a smile and thanks him for coming to get them.

She does not move when Camila walks back to class with him.

She never even says the word goodbye.


	3. Part 3: TALK ME DOWN

It shouldn't be a surprise she hears her phone vibrate at three in the morning. She's been sleeping on and off for the past three days, lucky if she receives more than a couple hours at once. The record so far is one to two hours a night, if that.

The phone's been vibrating for two minutes straight now, buzzing so violently Lauren thinks it may just be-

Realistically speaking, it probably is Camila. She's known for late night calls, driven by both lust and heartache. The girl probably feels guilty. That's all.

Lauren turns over in her bed. She won't turn off the phone because she wants Camila to know it's over, that she can call and text a million times and Lauren still won't respond.

It's harder than she thought it would be.

The first night, Camila left two messages. One informing she has her phone back, the other extensively apologizing. Camila has this way of recycling meanings behind new words. She can make saying goodbye sound a short story, a metaphor anyone would keep close to their hearts. She makes pain sound beautiful.

Lauren learned this the first time Camila hurt her. She said she was sorry, that the situation was out of her control and if she had a say she wouldn't be doing this and jesus, Lauren, stop being delusional. It was so much lighter than a goodbye. It was so much more good than bad.

At least it felt that way. Now, all Lauren feels is the ache of those goodbyes, like each short story and metaphor has been leading up to this giant shock of pain. It leaves her breathless, like she's being kicked at from every angle.

Her phone is still vibrating.

Lauren tries to slow her breathing and clamps her eyes shut tighter. Just ignore it, she tells herself. She'll stop eventually.

She awakes an hour later to John Mayer's voice, singing about red wine and Ambien. How funny.

She turns over and seizes her phone, it's screen all too bright against the pitch black of her room. She keeps her eyes shut as the ringtone ends. She doesn't breathe as Camila's voice cries from the other line.

"I'm going to block your number." Lauren says. "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't take advantage of me like this. This is the last time I ever talk to you, do you understand?"

She tells herself she has every right to be as angry as she is. She's lost so much more than sleep over this girl.

"Lauren?" Lauren's heart skips a beat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"

Hearing Camila cry shouldn't phase her this much anymore, but it still tenses her nerves, puts a lump in her throat.

"I just- oh my god, Lauren," The girl can't even speak properly, her words muddled by her uneven breathing and gasps. "I-"

Lauren sighs. She knows she's going to regret asking this.

"What's going on?"

"I- my mom- she-"

It's all she needs to say to get Lauren's attention. She sits up in her bed and puts her phone on speaker. She turns on the lamp by her bed, already scanning the floor for her shoes.

"I don't know what happened, s-she just...I came home from school a-and she was acting strange-"

"I'm coming over." She finally finds her shoes and slips into them. "Make sure your window is open."

It would be so conventional if Lauren really did make it out of her room and into Camila's. They'd probably cry into each other, mend each other's wounds, maybe even kiss.

But this isn't that kind of story. Lauren's life isn't a fantasy, and-as we'll soon find out-neither is Camila's.

Camila stifles her cries long enough to say, "No, you can't."

Lauren rolls her eyes, playing the comment off as nothing more than just an exaggeration on Camila's part. She's just being hysterical.

"What do you mean I can't, Camz?" She takes her phone and walks over to her vanity, checking herself in the mirror.

"You can't, Lauren. T-There's just t-too much going on. If my dad finds us-"

"Then come over here," She says it without a second thought. In a literal blink of an eye, Lauren has completely changed her perspective on Camila. She's instantly forgiven her.

"I can't, Lauren. I just-"

This unsettles her further. Why can't she come over? She always comes over in these types of situations, and vice-versa. There is something wrong here, she realizes with a sudden wave of nausea. Something very, very wrong.

"Why did you call me, Camila?" Her tone is cold, and she can see her face growing red in the mirror.

"My mom-"

"Your mom what, hurt you? She hit you, right? So why exactly are you calling me, then? To cry to me about it?"

She can't stop herself. She stares at herself in the mirror.

"What do you want me to do, Camila?"

"Stop being an asshole! You're not listening

"I am fucking listening! You're crying to me about how your mom hurt you. And yet, you don't want to come over, and you don't want me to come over, even though we always see each other after something like that happens. So tell me, Camila, what are you really trying to say? That you want me to listen and comfort you when you know damn well I shouldn't?"

Camila goes silent. Lauren laughs.

"You're fucking unbelievable. You're a manipulator, Camila, an emotional abuser. You think you can just hurt me over and over and talk to me one day then ignore me the next and act like it's all okay. It's not okay, Camila. Do you have any idea how much sleep I've lost over you? Dinah wants me to see a psychologist."

Lauren thinks she may cry, but she keeps going. She is so, so over this.

"You're a needy, stuck-up bitch who refuses to let go. You take advantage of people and never let them say goodbye. It's always you who has to end it. But not this time, because I'm really blocking your number. Don't fucking talk to me again, ever."

"Lauren, please-"

She hangs up before Camila can say another word.

She doesn't get any more sleep that night.

—

Lauren has stopped counting the days Camila hasn't been in English. She gave up after four.

She's learning that Camila is someone who will only drag her backwards in life, too selfish to allow her to move forward. Maybe she dropped out, or made a demand to be switched out. Maybe her mom finally cracked and threw her in Catholic School.

Her mom. It's the only thing still caught in the back of her throat like a strep infection. What if Sinu just had enough with Camila? Threw her out? Disowned her own daughter?

Lauren clears her throat, brushing eraser marks from her open English journal. According to the do-now on the chalkboard, she's supposed to be drafting a poem about a hardship she's experienced. Considering all that's happened, this should be a breeze.

But now she's contemplating it, wondering if Camila's okay, if she's safe-

Dammit, no. Now she shakes her head, sighing of frustration. Camila doesn't matter anymore. If Lauren's own well-being wasn't a concern, Camila's isn't either.

Lauren looks down at the few words she's written.

You wanted someone to sleep next to, that's all.

A mobile heater for when you get cold.

I wanted to come home to you, to spend every moment holding hands-

She stops the poem there. It's messy, senseless and just bad. It's a perfect representation of her mind.

She used to be so good at writing.

Lauren tackles the disorderly words on the page, erasing each one with such ferocity the page rips.

She collapses then, dropping her face into her palms then running through them her hair. Dammit, she thinks for the up-tenth time. Look at what you've let her do to you.

She looks back down at her journal to find a shadow looming over it. At first she thinks it's her teacher, coming to interrogate her on her stress.

Or maybe it's Camila, finally back from the dead.

She looks up. It's not any of those people.

It's not even Zendaya.

It's-

It's Ally. Ally Brooke, one of Camila's best friends. Ally Brooke, expected valedictorian. Ally Brooke-

Is she even in this class?

"Um, hi," The girl says meekly, hiding behind these big clunky glasses that take up most of her face. She looks exactly how you'd expect: jeans, burgundy Abercombie shirt with a scarf folded over it, heels. Everything about her screams brainiac.

"I know we don't really know each other, but I was wondering if we could maybe...talk? Just us two? ...Alone?"

If Lauren were chewing gum, she'd blow a bubble and pop it right in Ally's face.

"Well, lets see," She says, her eyes returning to her journal. "It's been four days since Camila's been in school, which also means it's been four nights since she called me crying and I cut off all contact with her. You're asking if we can talk alone. If the conversation has anything to do with Camila, the answer is no."

Ally stones over, her kind eyes dimming.

"It's really important-"

"Important to you, maybe, but that's because she's your best friend. I don't want anything to do with her, so it isn't important to me."

Be cold, she tells herself. Don't let her in.

"Lauren, I really think-"

"Look, I'm trying to be as reasonable as I can here. I don't know what story she told you, but she hurt me in ways I can't forgive, okay?"

"I-"

"Please," Lauren meets Ally's eyes completely for the first time, desperation coloring them gray. "Just let it go."

She takes a quick glance at the doorway, like she's making sure of something, then sighs with defeat. Her brow curves around her eyes, dipping behind her glasses. Her mouth is wide open, too, quivering with words she cannot say.

"Sorry to have bothered you." She finally mutters, turning to leave.

But the teacher stops her.

"Ally Brooke!" Mrs. Velasquez says, slapping a hand onto the smaller girl's shoulder. "How are you? I haven't seen you since last summer! How's Camila?"

It's the last question that makes Lauren burn from the inside out, like all her organs are on fire and her blood is gasoline.

Of course her fucking AP English teacher is concerned more about Camila than Lauren. It's not like Lauren's spent the past two years rewriting essay after essay in hopes of attaining at least an A. It's not like-

Camila just refuses to leave her alone. She isn't even in the fucking room and she's the most important person alive.

Ally glances from Lauren to the teacher. She lowers her voice and turns her head so Lauren can't hear. Bitch.

All Lauren can make out is 'she-', death-', 'family-', you didn't get the email?'

Mrs. Velasquez covers her mouth with a hand, her eyes widening. She's one of those adults who like to make a grand gesture out of everything, so when she gasps, everyone can hear it.

Lauren hears it too clearly.

"Send her my best wishes," Mrs. Velasquez says. "And if she needs anything-you know, when she comes back-let her know I'm here, will you? I'll start sending her work home immediately."

Ally nods, looking somber herself.

As she leaves, Lauren tells herself not to wonder. She doesn't care, shouldn't care, will not care. So what if Camila isn't in school? She's probably skipping, too embarrassed to face Lauren after being rejected. Lauren would know. She's been there.

Not much happens in AP English. Or if if does, Lauren doesn't remember it after class ends. The only interesting thing to happen all day is when someone checks her arm, a strong hand nearly breaking the soft skin protecting her veins.

She wishes it was Ally. She wishes it was Zendaya or Dinah. She wishes it was Normani.

Hell, she even wishes it was Camila, of all people.

But here in these all too cramped hallways littered with crumpled paper and broken pencils, here Lauren encounters someone she's barely spoken five words to her entire life.

She rips her arm out of his grasp, her eyes already bruising from the words she's about to hear. She looks at him with suspicion, with frustration, with bitterness.

But Shawn Mendes is a character she can't stay mad at. He's the nicest jock you'll ever meet, with warm brown eyes and a cool voice that makes you feel home. He's always been more of a brother than a friend or acquaintance. Lauren even thinks he tries too hard to keep that distinction.

He can see the scream in Lauren's throat before she even opens her mouth.

"Just hear me out," He says, putting his hands in the air, surrendering. "Five minutes, that's all I'm asking for."

Lauren shifts her bag to the other shoulder.

"One."

She doesn't know why she allows Shawn to speak when she blew off Ally. Maybe because in a way, she trusts him more than her. Shawn and Camila been together for what, two days? A week?

He has to know what's going on if he's willing to speak for her.

"You don't know what you're doing by ignoring Camila." He says. "She's going through-"

Lauren raises her hand for him to stop. No, she tells herself. I know what I'm doing. She crosses her arms.

"What did she tell you? That I'm some freak who can't let go? A psycho who stalks her on a daily basis? Tell me how I'm so wrong, Shawn."

"She was trying to explain to you-"

"That she had a reason for all that she's done to me? Nothing can justify what she's done! She's a heartless bitch who-"

She realizes the halls have emptied. She's going to be late to her Calculus.

Lauren shakes her head, letting the thought go.

She expects Shawn to explode, to fight back with words more painful than fists could ever be. He is her boyfriend, after all. Why wouldn't he defend Camila?

But he takes a deep breath through his nose, like he's a parent who just found out about their kid cheating on a test. He looks straight through Lauren, past her dark exterior and her now gray eyes. Lauren isn't prepared for what he's about to say.

"I know you love her."

She wants to die right then and there. She feels her skin shrink against her suddenly fragile frame, and she thinks she might pass out from all the blood leaving her cheeks. Is she sweating? She runs a hand through her hair, touches her forehead. Oh god, she is sweating.

But she doesn't love Camila. Lauren doesn't love Camila. Not anymore.

Right?

"I saw the two of you in the cafeteria that one day. Friends can't break your heart that hard."

She swallows. "You don't know shit." She mutters.

But he's telling the truth. God, he's telling the truth.

"I know Aristotle's philosophy by heart. I know every square root in existence. I don't know half the names of the players in the MLB."

He smiles with only one half of his mouth upturned, like he has the full intent of smiling but can't physically bring himself to do so.

"But I know you love her. You and I both know you love her. She loves you too, you know."

Lauren can't take it. This boy is smiling like what he's saying wouldn't break anyone else's heart. It's like he's taking pride in being a beard, a hoax, a-

A cover-up.

She feels not like she can't breathe, or that she's going to puke. She feels anger. Blinding white anger. She wants to punch a locker. She even wants to punch Shawn's carefully crafted face.

So she starts down the hall, turning away from him. Leave, she tells herself. Leave before he gets into your head-

But Shawn doesn't let her go that easily.

"When we're hurting, we hurt others. We become so scared of losing them as a result of our own self-loathing that we make them leave. It erases the fear of waiting."

"Shut up, Shawn." She mutters it more to herself than him.

"Her mom beat her that night."

Lauren halts.

"Stop it, Shawn."

"Her mom got drunk-"

"Shut the fuck up, Shawn!" She still doesn't turn around.

"No one knows what happened. It's like Sinu just snapped-"

"So what?" Lauren finally turns around, tears burning her eyes and tearing her throat apart. "So what if her mom fucking beat her? That's not my fault. Whatever happens to Camila-" She tries to catch her breath, but it's like each word sucks it right out of her. "That's her problem! Not mine."

They both know it's a lie.

Shawn keeps going. "Her mom said she was disowning her. She said she was going to move and leave Camila."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lauren's lost everything now, dissolving into a red, bleary-eyed mess. Shawn blurs into a faint outline behind her tears. "Stop," She begs. "Just stop-"

"So Sinu got in a car."

Lauren's heart stops. Her legs are noodles. Her hair is pine needles and her tongue is sandpaper. She is frozen.

Please. She never liked Camila's mom, at all. But she needs her to be okay, for nobody else's sake but Camila's.

"The funeral is tonight."

No. She feels like she is going to sink to her knees, like she is melting right here and now. No, dammit.

It feels like she is stuck in a perpetual nightmare. This isn't real. Camila's mom isn't-

Isn't-

She can't even think the damned word. She's scared if she sees it behind her eyes, if she lets it wonder, she won't be able to control herself. The afterlife isn't scary until it reaps someone from your life.

Not that Sinu was apart of her life, really. But she was apart of Camila. She's the reason for Camila.

Camila, motherless-

(Not that Sinu was much of a mother to begin with.)

Fuck.

And she shouldn't care. Camila's treated Lauren worse than the pound treats puppies. She was manipulative, ruthless, cold-

But this is where Lauren learns maybe she had a reason. Maybe she was dealing with too much. Maybe Lauren was Camila's only escape.

Maybe we do hurt others when we're hurting ourselves.

Lauren digs into her bag then, retrieving her inhaler. She isn't having a panic attack, but she still feels like she needs the extra breath or two.

She doesn't say goodbye to Shawn, but the feeling is still there.

Lauren leaves school then, ignoring the secretary screaming for her to stop immediately. She rolls into her car. She adjusts the photo of Camila and her hanging in the dash. She pulls out her phone, pulls up Siri.

"Siri," She says. "Where can I buy a suit?"

—

She doesn't even make it two steps before being pushed off the premises.

"Absolutely not," Camila's dad is shouting. His gray hair is white at this point, and the skin sagging around his eyes tells Lauren he's aged at least ten years over night. She understands this completely. She does not, however, understand the blame directed at her. She's just here to speak to Camila. At least, that's what she said the moment Alejandro began straining his voice.

"No!" His voice is breaking. It sounds like he's been tiring it all night. "You aren't welcome here! I'll call the police!"

Lauren raises her head above Alejandro's broad shoulders, searching for Camila. Just one word. She just needs to say one word.

"You are disrespecting all of my family. You come to my own wife's funeral dressed like- like a dyke. A boy."

Alejandro might've had his religious disputes, but he was never homophobic, not like his wife was. Camila would tell Lauren of the times he'd come down to check on her after one of Sinu's episodes. He'd sit next to her on her bed, held her hand, told her God still loves her. It may not seem like much, but it was his own way of saying I love you, I'm sorry.

This is a totally different Alejandro, far past the line of homophobia.

But part of Lauren expected it. She wore a suit for a reason.

"I'm just here to talk to Camila." She says in her calmest voice.

"I said no! Now leave, before I call the cops."

"Please, Mr. Cabello-"

"Why do you do this, huh?" His voice thins. "Why me? Why Karla? Why couldn't you ruin someone else's family?"

The fire of his anger burns Lauren past the third degree. She closes her eyes. She can feel Camila in Alejandro's words. If this is how her father feels, she wonders-

She tells herself to stop. Everything will be fine if she can just make it to Camila, to the girl she lo-

Wait a minute.

What she's about to say is something she's doubted since eighth grade, when she first developed feelings for Camila. It's bold, it's terrifying, and it isn't permanent.

But it's enough. She knows in her heart, it's enough.

"I love your daughter, Mr. Cabello."

She waits for him to punch something, and when he doesn't she continues confidently.

"I don't know why I do, either. Love is like that. It chooses blindly and we have no other choice but to obey."

"I loved my wife. Look what happened to her."

"She was hurting. Maybe that's why she hurt your daughter. When we're hurting ourselves, we hurt others before they can add to the pain."

Alejandro melts. The hard lines around his eyes soften, and his chin droops down. His eyes even water.

Lauren silently thanks Shawn.

"Five minutes." He says, though she can tell he means more. He gives her a hard stare and nods before walking away.

It's beautiful how one can say a million words without actually saying anything.

-

Sinu's funeral does not feel like a funeral, and Lauren can't decide if it's because it hasn't sunken in yet or if it's the lack of family around. There's a handful of cousins in one corner of the field, a few siblings across from them. Altogether there's maybe twenty people. Lauren feels a pang in her chest. She's beginning to realize Sinu wasn't a bad person, she just had a lot of bad thoughts, mostly due to her condition. If there's one promise Lauren's making tonight, it's to never drink or smoke again. She refuses to allow outside substances invade her state of mind.

She's better than that.

The graveyard sits above the ocean, and as the wind kicks up Lauren grows more grateful she wore a suit. She can still feel the cold, though.

That's when she sees Her.

A somber black dress, heels, jacket. Even dressed as the human embodiment of death, Camila is still breathtaking.

Lauren quickens her pace, then immediately stops like she's run into a brick wall.

She is crying, harder than Lauren has ever seen her cry. She is crying into-

Into-

Shawn?

This is wrong, she wants to scream. Wrong, wrong wrong. Shawn isn't supposed to be this close to Camila, holding her hand-

She turns away as it's happening. Her blood goes cold.

Kissing. She starts back down the path she came from. Fucking kissing. Shawn kissing Camila. Camila kissing Shawn.

What the fuck?

Then she starts running, starting to feel her knees weaken. This is not the plan. She was supposed to get Camila back. She was supposed to-

And Shawn. That fucking snake. Oh, god.

How could she have been so foolish? So stupid.

As she's walking, she can't stop the images that flash before her eyes. She sees trees, then remembers how she and Camila used to climb them. She feels the concrete beneath her, then remembers how she and Camila used to skid their knees across it.

She is swallowing painful memory after painful memory and all she can do is accept it. Because Sinu is gone, and Camila is kissing Shawn. Sinu isn't here, and Camila still kisses Shawn.

And Shawn kisses her back. Lauren can tell it isn't out of pity. That's not the kind of guy Shawn is.

It feels like she's been running for hours, but she doesn't stop. She runs like she is running from the past, running fem Camila, running from the life she doesn't want anymore.

Until she realizes she has asthma.


	4. FINAL PART: TALK ME DOWN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING for suicide

Here is this girl, dying.

She writhes on the cold concrete, her hands jumping from her chest to her mouth as if she can control the oxygen transferring from one to the other. She's experienced the inability to breathe plenty of times before; the heaving; the wheezing; the migraine; the panic.

But it's never felt like this. This feels like being packed into a cardboard box and no one can hear her scream, because she can't scream. It feels like not one but two elephants are collapsing on her chest. It feels like-

Like death.

Here is this girl, cursing herself for not bringing her inhaler, cursing herself for even thinking to run. Cursing herself for thinking her and a girl just as foolish as herself would work out.

This girl is dying, but it isn't because of the asthma attack.

Lauren is dying, but the direct cause isn't her crappy lungs. It's a person.

She has no energy for tears. She stops writhing, stops thinking. She gives up on the small hope she's held onto since C-

She stops completely.

Here is this girl, dead.

For now.

—

She never believed in heaven. She believed in a god, sure, but not an imaginary land that supposedly reveals itself after death. As far as she was concerned, death is it. Your soul is discontinued and you're plunged into eternal darkness. No one can prove otherwise.

But they were right.

There's certainly no white mist blinding her, and definitely no angels welcoming her with open arms. There's no domineering gate.

Just emptiness.

But it's still heaven.

People are wrong when it comes to peace. It does not have to be crowded with kind spirits, nor loitered with hope. It just has to be free of chaos.

Lauren can't really see anything. She knows her eyes are shut-she can feel the weight of her lids-but she can't exactly move them. Her limbs are acknowledged, too, but they feel even heavier than her eyes, like dread.

She sees no reason to try and move them.

She's fine with staying like this forever. All physical functions are done away with. There are no thoughts calamitous enough to drive her mad, no worries. She's not even sure that part of her brain is intact at this point. She can think, but only to a certain extent. Just enough thoughts produced to prevent loneliness.

At least, that's how it feels for the first hour or two or god-literally-knows how long. (Does time even exist in heaven?)

She imagines if her lungs were still in use, she'd be breathing deeply now.

People relive memories all the time. They feel it buzzing in the tips of their fingertips after touching a thing from the past, hear it between the sloshes of blood in their ears after making eye contact with an ex. They taste it-overwhelmingly so-after a single bite of the same birthday cake they first had when they were eight.

But in their simplest form, those are all considered good memories.

The ones that flash before Lauren's eyes are anything but.

She sees kids on concrete, both girls, one much shorter than the other. The taller girl has these clunky glasses, almost bigger than Ally's. Her hair is brighter than what it will be when she turns eighteen. So is her smile.

Lauren zones in on the shorter girl. Her hands are so small, even for a five-year-old. In fact, her entire body is a pebble compared to the other girl's. Her eyes are too bright to be brown, and her cheeks are the shade of pink one would only ever receive in a snow storm.

The two girls skip up and down the sidewalk, holding hands. The tall girl- _L.J-_ we'll call her-wants to jump rope. The other girl, _C.C,_ wants to draw with chalk.

There is no fighting, no cries of hey or but or stop. Just compromise.

Lauren can't take this.

A new memory shreds the one before it, like fire consuming paper. The two girls are older now, entering their last year of middle school. L.J is walking to class, calm and collected. Her smile is still bright, but her eyes are starting to dim.

They almost darken completely when she passes C.C.

She has normal-sized glasses now, and her hair stops at her shoulders. Her skin is paler, no color in her cheeks. She walks like rain, her shoulders sagged and feet struggling to lift off the ground.

Lauren didn't see it then, but she sure as hell sees it now. L.J is much brighter than C.C.

The two girls don't exchange a word in that hallway, keeping their eyes averted and heads down.

Lauren still can't take this.

The final memory hits the hardest. L.J and C.C are studying for their upcoming PSAT together, in C.C's room, on C.C's bed.

No, Lauren thinks as she relives this. Please, no.

But this heaven has turned upside down, into a place worse than hell. This is inconceivable. This isn't hell.

This is the devil himself.

"I understand exactly none of this," L.J says, scribbling away in her notebook. "Why do we even have to know this stuff? 50 percent of adults say they never use algebra in their lives unless they're a contractor or some shit."

C.C rolls her eyes. She lay on her stomach, her nose in a textbook. "Those adults probably work at McDonalds."

"My mom works at a hospital, thank you."

"And my mom used to work at McDonalds. She still used algebra."

L.J rolls her eyes, but there's a curl to her lip that she can't hide from C.C.

Lauren can feel her stomach dropping and her blood pressure rising, yet she isn't even sure how that's possible when she's fucking dead.

She can feel it coming. She counts the minutes in her head.

**One.**

"I don't know much about algebra," L.J sings. Her voice is the nicest sound C.C has ever heard. "But I know that 1+1 equals two."

**Two.**

C.C pouts and rolls her eyes again. She shakes her head. "Shut up." She says, glancing away.

**Three.**

"And it's me and you, that's all we'll have when the world is through."

**Four.**

Suddenly they're leaning over their books, hands locked behind each other's heads.

**Five.**

Their hands travel downwards, kissing becoming so much more than kissing.

**Six.**

But it's not what you're thinking.

**Seven.**

They hold hands, fingers intertwining.

**Eight.**

They pull away for a moment, meeting each other's eyes.

**Nine.**

There is so much more they want to say to one another, to convey how deep their love is.

But all they can do is kiss, hold hands, smile in the way no one else has seen.

They reconnect-

**Ten. _Oh, god, ten._**

C.C hears her door open, but she doesn't worry. Her mom isn't due back for another half hour. Her sister is too young to remember what she'll see. Her dad is visiting her uncle. She keeps kissing L.J. There is nothing to worry about.

**Eleven.**

But then she hears it. They both hear it. C.C's mom is a screaming, flaring mess.

"What the fuck is this?!" Sinu waves her arms this way and that, eyes dark as a demon's. "What the-"She exasperates, the air literally sucked from her lungs. She shakes her head violently. "My own daughter-!"

**Twelve.**

C.C jumps off L.J as if she were toxic to the touch. She leaps from the bed, spreading her hands out in plea. She looks like she's about to cry or throw up or both.

"It's not-" She begins, but loses her words. What is she supposed to say? It's not what it looks like?

"It's-" She's shaking her head now, too. "Mami-"

**Thirteen.**

"A dyke. A fucking dyke, my own blood. Is this what you do when I'm not home, hm? Act like a little whore with girls!"

Lauren wishes she were plunged into darkness. She wishes death was nothing more than pitch black, the inability to move. Hell, she wouldn't care if she had only herself and her thoughts for all eternity. Anything but this.

L.J is paralyzed. Sinu grabs her daughter by the arm, and C.C instantly cries out.

Please, Lauren is begging.

"You think you can disrespect me like this in my own home, puta!"

 **Fourteen.** _Please_.

"Mami, please-"

Lauren cannot turn off the memory. She cannot shield her eyes from it, cannot do anything but watch.

She understands why they call it hell.

**Fifteen.**

The memory ends in bruises and screaming and crying and stop it you're hurting her and pushing and shoving and finally escaping through the window.

Do you understand now, reader?

Here is this girl, sick with her own past and her nonexistent future. She wants this to end. She wants herself to end. She wishes she was never born.

The next thing she witnesses changes all of that.

Withering grass shivering in the harsh wind, people dressed in black with even darker faces, concrete that looks oddly familiar-

She's reliving her death, she realizes. This is the funeral. This is where she died.

Her view scopes the entire area, like she's a ghost flying over it. She sees the pale ocean, the dock-

If she still a had a heart, it would be in her stomach.

There stands Camila, standing at the edge of the dock. Her hair is flying all over the place, and her eyes are barely open.

She's in deep thought, and Lauren can already tell something is terribly, terribly wrong.

She doesn't understand. She never saw this, only saw Camila and Shawn kiss and that was it. She died. How can she relive a memory she wasn't alive to witness?

But Camila still stands there, feeling the wind grow fiercer and the ocean roar louder.

Here is this girl-

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Camila tenses her arms, her palms opening up to the ocean. She lifts her head, closes her eyes completely. She breathes in deeply through her nose.

Oh, no.

Because Lauren knows what she's doing. God, does she know. She recognizes the look on Camila's face, how every rise and fall of her chest is laced with something heavier. Her palms are facing the ocean for a reason. She is at the edge of the fucking dock for a reason.

Oh, no. Oh, god, please, no.

This is what helplessness feels like. Like being frozen, imprisoned by your own selfish thoughts, like a grizzly bear is hugging you, like there is a gun pointed at your head.

This can't be real. This can't be real. This can't be real.

Camila wouldn't-

She wouldn't. She's not like that-

Camila moves further towards the end of the dock.

Please, she is screaming in her head. Please, don't do this. I love you, don't do this. Please, please-

She wakes up.

Her chest is sore to where it feels like there is a gaping hole somewhere. There's a sour taste in her mouth. Her fingers are numb.

But she is breathing. She is alive.

She feels the concrete beneath her, hears a male voice saying a prayer.

She jumps up from the ground, somehow finding adrenaline from the realization that holy shit, it wasn't real.

Camila's still alive. She's still-

But as Lauren gazes the area, the small black blob of people surrounding a coffin being lowered into the ground just up the hill-

She sees the ocean. She sees the dock.

Camila is still standing there.

God, or the devil, or whoever is controlling all of this, won't let her live. They want to see Lauren suffer. They're punishing her for a sin she can't put her finger on.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She takes off again, not caring if she passes out again from all the activity. If she dies, she better fucking die trying to make sure Camila doesn't.

One.

The dock is so long, like it was created with all the possible accidents that can occur in mind.

Two.

Her legs are so short, and with her shriveling lungs she is as fast as a guinea pig.

Three.

She remembers everything she's just relived, from jumping rope and playing with chalk to bruises birthed by cold hands.

Four.

She remembers sleeping pills and crying for days on end and skipping school.

Five.

She remembers Camila's phone call in the middle of the night. She remembers how she erupted.

Six.

"I like apple juice." "Guess it's grape for me, then."

Seven.

Her entire body is on fire. Camila is almost to the edge.

Eight.

She wants to scream, but she fears so greatly it will only drive Camila off the edge faster.

Nine.

She remembers how Camila gave her the record they first made love to. She can't remember it's name.

Ten.

Why can't she remember it's name?

Eleven.

She feels her legs give out, and she almost collapses right then and there. But she leans over one knee, almost leaping upwards to keep the momentum going.

Twelve.

She loves this girl so much she is willing to trade her own life for hers. She will do anything for this girl. If Camila jumps, Lauren will jump.

Thirteen.

And it's not romantic. It's not cute or relationship goals. It is the most unhealthy, most foolish way of thinking. Depending on a person for happiness is like depending on a plant to stay small for your survival.

They both change and grow and are unreliable and leave you in the end.

Suicide for suicide is more than selfish. It's a crime.

Fourteen.

She's not going to make it. Fuck, she's not going to fucking make it.

Camila steps one foot off the dock-

Fifteen.

"Camila!"

Strong arms lock around Camila, pushing against her stomach so hard she can feel it bruising. She is flipped away from the dock, almost thrown to the ground.

Lauren made it.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Camila screams, slamming her hands against Lauren whose now holding her, hugging her to the point of suffocation.

"Let me go! Lauren-!"

"Stop," Lauren says it so softly Camila doesn't hear it the first time. She struggles to breathe. "Please."

"You shouldn't have done it," Camila screams louder. "You should've let me jump-"

"Don't say that."

"It's true. I've done nothing but ruin your life and cause you pain and-"

The hits halt. Camila's hands go limp, dropping down to Lauren's waist.

Lauren kisses her like this is the last chance she'll ever get. She kisses her like her life depends on it. She kisses her like she is communicating all the words she can never say.

She feels Camila's tears.

Here are these two broken girls, crying.

This is not the end of their story. These two girls do not save each other, do not mend each other's wounds, heal their scars.

Reality is a tragic thing.

Like always, Camila is the first to pull away.

"I'm sorry," She almost whispers, her voice tattered. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Lauren says. "You're fine. You always are. You're fine-"

She dips forward for another kiss, but Camila steps back, shaking her head.

Here it comes, she thinks.

"I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I couldn't-" She puts a hand to her chest, gesturing. "I was going through so much, Lauren. I couldn't keep all of that inside and I took it out on you-"

"Stop talking like that," Lauren searches Camila's face, puzzled. "Everything that has happened...it's in the past. It's over with."

"No, it's not."

Lauren has never been more terrified in her life.

"What do you mean?" She whispers.

"I-....You'll find out. That's honestly all I can say."

"What do you mean, Camila?"

"You have to promise me you'll never pour so much of yourself into another person like me-"

"What the hell are you talking about, Camz?"

"Just promise me." She is begging with tired, bleary eyes. "Please."

Lauren shakes her head. "I-I promise, but-"

"I love you." Camila seizes Lauren's hands. "I never expressed it how I should have, but I love you. I love you more than the stars and the moon and the grass and the water. I love you more than the galaxies above. I love you more than heaven."

Something aches in Lauren's chest. It isn't her lungs.

"Camila, tell me what's going-"

"You have to let me go."

This feels weird. This feels unnatural. This feels wrong.

"Camila, whatever you did it doesn't matter. We can move past this-"

"I kissed Shawn because I couldn't stand you chasing after me."

Lauren feels herself unraveling.

"I had to do something to make sure you gave up. I couldn't let yourself keep doing that to yourself. We would have never worked out, Lauren. I was too broken."

"Was broken. You said was. I don't care, Camila-"

"You have to let me go."

She shakes her head.

"No." Not after everything she's just been through, not after everything they've both been through. She just fucking saved Camila's life.

"Lauren, please-"

"I won't let you go. I don't care what you do to me. I'll always keep coming back."

"Tell me you love me."

Lauren knows it's another way of letting go, of saying goodbye, of accepting fate.

No.

"Camila, please-"

"Tell me you love me." She closes her eyes, her cheeks red. "You have to do this. For me."

It feels like death for the up tenth time.

"I love you."

Camila nods, struggling to smile through this shattered shell of a person.

"And promise me you'll remember it wasn't your fault."

What wasn't her fault?

"Camila, you're talking nonsense-"

"Just say it."

She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand. She is drowning.

She sighs. "I'll remember it wasn't my fault. I don't understand. Please stop acting like this-"

"Tell me I'm annoying."

That's when it really feels like goodbye, like the end all be all.

She is going to lose Camila. She fought for how fucking long, and she's going to lose her.

She again is losing her breath.

"Don't do this," Lauren pleads with a brow dipped so forcefully it hurts. "Please don't do this to me."

The words taste so familiar.

"You have to say it first. It's tradition."

Her chest is ripping at the seams.

"I won't." She is crying harder than ever before. "Don't you dare fucking do this to me, Camila! I will never forgive you. You just said you loved me. This- This isn't love."

"You have to trust me. There's nothing I can do to change what has happened. We have to part. Please, Lauren."

"Fuck you," Lauren spits through gritted teeth, slowly shaking her head. "I was right about everything I said that one night..." Her voice shakes. "You're a manipulator, a m-"

She completely loses herself then, mumbling oh my god, oh my god to herself and burying her face in her hands, then running them through her hair.

This isn't real.

"And you're kind of an ass, Jauregui."

Her heart drops out of her body.

"Don't you fucking dare, don't you dare-"

Camila repeats it. It sounds like a knife digging into flesh.

"I hate you! After everything you've just said, and everything you've done to me...Everything we've been through together...God, I hate you."

Camila nods and grimaces. She says it again.

"Stop saying that! I'm not gonna fucking say it. You don't deserve to hear it. You won't get that much satisfaction."

"We're running out of time, Lauren." Camila realizes her hands are still laced with Lauren's. "Just say it so I can leave."

Lauren is no longer Lauren.

"Running out of time? What, is pretty boy Shawn waiting on you? What's so much more important than the person you just fucking claimed you love?!"

"I'm sorry-"

"No, you're not fucking sorry. You just feel guilty. You aren't actually sorry. You don't care."

"Say it and I'll leave, then."

But Lauren still doesn't want to say goodbye. All she can do is shake her head.

"Lauren," This time Camila whispers it. "Please."

Her voice is barely intact. She is crumbling like old buildings, like a house of cards.

This really is goodbye.

"You're so annoying, Cabello." She is shaking her head the entire time, begging Camila to not leave her, not do her like this.

"And you're kind of an ass, Jauregui."

There is a moment of silence, a stare held far too long. She can see Camila clear her throat, trying to swallow back her tears.

And then they're hugging, not kissing or holding hands but hugging. It's so tight, none of them can breathe.

Because this is goodbye.

They hug for what feels like hours, then retract only for a small kiss. No making out, nothing deep. Just a quick kiss.

The last words Lauren hears are "I love you."

Then she wakes up again.

—

Here is this girl, awake.

She hears the beeping of monitors, of the radio playing a song she's heard too many times before.

She opens her eyes to blinding white walls.

A hospital, she realizes.

Her pulse instantly hastens. She knows, because she hears the heart monitor's beeps screaming.

Then, a voice.

"I love you," She says, sounding far away. "I don't know what I'll do with myself if you don't wake up. Not trying to be negative or anything, but you know, it's true. Z is pretty worried, too. She's been home sick with stress."

Z? As in-?

It's Dinah. Holy shit, it's Dinah.

Lauren blinks a few times and there she is, makeup free and in her pajamas. Her hair is tied back into a bun. She looks like she spent the night here.

"The doctors said you should be fine, but you've been out for three days now and no one understands why." She scoffs. "Some fucking hospital."

Lauren doesn't know what to say. She's partly terrified because what the fuck do you mean she's been out for three days? And why is she in a hospital?

But she's also heartbroken at the sight of her withered friend.

"I've been thinking, and I've decided I'm going to study pediatric med in college. I don't know how I'm going to pay for it all, maybe take a gap year or two. But I'm going to be a doctor, a kids doctor, so shit like this doesn't happen.

"I mean, I know you aren't a kid, but technically you aren't an adult, either. I don't really know what I'm saying right now. I just want you to be alright."

Lauren breathes. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say alright."

Her throat burns, like she hasn't had water for days. Talking even pulls on her chest a little, reminding her how sore it still is.

Dinah nearly falls over. She jumps up, eyes wide with fear.

"HOLY SHIT-" A hand shoots to her chest. "Oh my god, oh my god-" She seizes Lauren's face, and she can feel her hands shaking. "You're alive! Holy shit, you're alive!"

"Not for long if you keep acting like this," Lauren's entire being is tired.

"Oh, Lauren. You don't know what happened or how worried we all were. You had an asthma attack and someone called 911-thank god-and you just passed out for like three days straight. Oh, Lauren."

But all Lauren is thinking is three days? I passed out? But I woke up, didn't I? I saved Camila-

Camila.

"No one knows what happened. Fuck, it was so scary, Lauren. We thought-"

"Where's Camila?"

Dinah stones over like a sad sculpture. It makes Lauren nauseous.

"Dinah?"

"Look, you just woke up. I should probably go get the nurse and-"

"Dinah," Lauren's voice is so far gone. "Just tell me where she went. I can handle it."

Dinah shakes her head gravely, mouth agape.

"I don't think you can. Not right now."

"Dinah."

Dinah shakes her head even more slowly, brow dipping.

"I'm sorry." Is all she says.

Lauren's eyes widen. Something is more than wrong.

"Did she move away? Did she tell you off? Just tell me what happened."

"No one knew what was going on, Lauren..."

"Just tell me straight."

Dinah speaks in broken tongue. "When you passed out and were brought here...I-....Shawn was looking for her...No one could find her..."

The heart monitor blares louder.

"Someone said they saw her at the dock, but-"

"I know she tried to kill herself, Dinah." These words burn more than any others. They will leave a permanent mark on her throat. "It's fine."

Dinah shrinks against her skin, going white.

"H-how....How did you know that?"

"I was there. Before I passed out, I guess. She was at the edge of the dock and I ran and stopped her."

Dinah looks like she's going to be sick, worse than Lauren.

"Lauren..." She shakes her head. "You weren't there. You passed out way before that."

"No I didn't." She says is so confidently. "I swear, Dinah. I stopped her and then she acted really....weird. But I stopped her. I was there."

"Lauren-"

"I was. I talked to her and everything. She told me to say goodbye to her and other dumb shit. I know what happened, Dinah."

Dinah pulls her lips inward, slowly inching for Lauren's hand.

She takes a deep breath before speaking.

"You didn't save Camila, Lauren."

The heart monitor silences for a second.

"Yes I did." She clears her throat, burning it even more. "I was there. How else would I know if I passed out beforehand like you said I did?"

"Lauren, please-"

"No, I know what I did and you're talking to me like I'm crazy. I stopped her from jumping, Dinah. I did."

Dinah holds her hand harder.

Lauren will never forget her next words.

"They found her body yesterday."

A hoarse, hushed no spills from her lips, an impulse she cannot control.

"I'm sorry, Lauren."

No. No, no, no. No, dammit! This isn't real. This isn't happening. She's going to wake up any second. This is another nightmare.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Then her chest really tears itself open, bleeding out all the memories and hope and love she's stored for this damn girl whose-

Whose-

No, dammit. Her entire body shakes, rattling from the inside out like a hurricane is raging behind her skin. She's probably crying. What she's focused most on is the immense pain she feels.

Dinah says something like oh shit and nurse, nurse! And somebody fucking help me!

But it's just a panic attack, isn't it?

She'll live, won't she?

Without Camila?

Suddenly she understands the blurred lines that connected Camila's words. Remember it's not your fault. Just promise me. You have to let me go.

Letting people go isn't easy, but it's possible.

Letting a lover go is harder, but it's also possible.

Letting go of memories is impossible.

Here is this girl, not caring for how her lungs are crying out for oxygen or how a nurse and an actual doctor are looming over her, telling her to calm down and threatening her with this big needle.

Here is this girl, without her other half.

It is here we learn how selfish suicide is, how keeping so much pain to yourself can result in so much pain of others.

We learn that love does not transcend mental illness.

We learn not to use humans as artificial heart beats.

Here is this girl, fading out, giving in to sedation.

She hears a song on the radio in the corner sing out some Beyonce song that sounds too familiar.

I don't know much about algebra, but I know that 1+1 equals two. And it's me and you, that's all we'll have when the world is through.

She notices how the whiteness of the hospital matches the hopeful perception of heaven.

Lauren sees a figure behind all these strangers in her face before she blacks out.

A female, wearing what looks like lounge-wear. Her hair is light. Her eyes are lighter.

She swears she sees the figure smile, almost reassuringly, before she finally closes her eyes.


End file.
